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Timothy was what some would call a normal 17 year old, he grew up normal, played normal, even lived normal. He didn't know his father, Rodney, his mother, Vicki, said he died when Timothy was born. His mother always made him wear these thick gloves, he didn't know why, but he didn't complain. As he got older though, he started to ask questions about the gloves. He was never allowed to take them off, his mother wouldn't allow it. 

One day his curiosity grew too large for him to resist, he decided to finally look at his hands. He went upstairs to the bathroom so his mother wouldn't try to stop him. First he snapped open the buckle holding together the straps around his wrists. He then unraveled the straps slowly. Finally, he slowly slid off the gloves. At first they looked normal, but he noticed black veins going to the tips of his fingers and his nails were slightly long due to never being able to trim them. 

But the thing that really made him curious were the black, cone-shaped spikes protruding from the tips of his fingers. They were short, but slightly sharp at the tip, when he went to rest his hand on the sink, it put 5 dents into the marble where his fingers were. Before he could examine them any more, his mother opened the door on him. She look scared, her eyes wide with fear, mouth open in shock, and her hands, cautiously reaching towards him.

Timothy then said to her, "Mother look, my hands, they aren't that different! Can I now go places without my gloves?" 

His mother just looked at him, she then replied, "Timothy, please, lower your hands and put your gloves back on.  It isn't safe to have you hands free like that."   Timothy had a distressed look on his face, he didn't understand why he couldn't go without the gloves, it was causing him to feel confused and stressed with his mother.

He then asked her, "Mother, if I'm not allowed to go with my hands free, then at least tell me why I cannot."

His mother sighed, then responded, "Timothy, it's better if you don't know why, I can't have you living in sadness or remorse for something that wasn't your fault."

"Please, tell me anyway."

"I can't, you don't understand"

"JUST TELL ME!"

"YOU ARE THE REASON YOUR FATHER DIED!"

This caused Timothy to take a step back, she was right, he didn't understand. How could he have killed his father, was it theses hands of his? No, they couldn't be the reason, could they?

His mother saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes, she realized the pain she had caused him. 

He felt he had to know the full story, so he asked, "How? How am I the cause?"

"When you were born, your father wanted to hold you. When your reached your tiny hand up to his face, and you touched him, he started to fade, then he was gone. All that was left were ashes on the ground where he stood, with you crying on top of it." Timothy couldn't believe this, he was the reason he never had a father, he was the reason his mother was always fearful when he was around others.

He couldn't take the hurt alone, he ran towards his mother, he needed comfort. His mother looked in fear knowing his gloves were off, he had his arms open for a hug. Before she could even say a warning he was already tightly hugging her, his hands on her back.

Timothy stopped, his eyes widened, he felt his spikes in her back, the blood flowing from where his fingers were, he knew he had made a foolish mistake that he couldn't take back. He screamed as he saw his mom's hand start to turn ash. It spread quickly, and eventually she was nothing but a pile of ashes, her existence completely gone. Timothy also had absorbed his mom's last thought. It was how he killed his father. Timothy gripped his head, trying to remove the thought. He saw it all right before his eyes, his father, himself as a baby, that tiny hand, then his father, now a pile of ashes.

Timothy once again screamed, he had lost everything, nothing was left for him here. He tried to put the spikes in his own arm, thinking it would take him away from this madness, but all he experienced was severe pain, then he passed out.

When he awoke he felt different, so he ran to the mirror. He was blown away by what he was looking at. His short hair was a grey-white instead of the black color it used to be, his eyes were completely black, but his pupils were blue, and the things that surprised him the most were the spikes now on the end of his elbows. He felt that there was no end to the chain of disaster happening. He had to do the unthinkable.

He needed to leave, run away somewhere to get rid of this insanity.

He stopped, he realized he'll need better clothes, food, money, and that's exactly what he did next. He threw food, money, and water bottles into a black draw-string bag. He then threw on a white undershirt, plain denim jeans that had faded into a lighter blue, a grey v-necked tee, black arm sleeves, and a dark blue vest with no zipper, collar, or buttons. After he finished gathering his stuff together, he decided to write everything down on a single piece of loose leaf paper. He felt like writing it down would help him cope with what just happened. Finished with that, he left his home, leaving those memories behind.

As he walked down the street he lived on, he noticed two cops taking a break on a bench. One looked up at him, he was large, neatly dressed, a sheriff's badge on his chest.

As Timothy walked by, the cop asked him, "You ok, kid?"

Timothy just look at him and sharply said:

"What's it to you?"

The cop reached a hand out to him and softly said:

"I'm just checking to see if your alright."

Timothy grabbed the cop's arm, piercing his skin, and said with a dark look in his eyes:

"I'm never alright."

Within 15 seconds, the cop was nothing but ashes.

The second cop, a deputy, immediately pulled out his gun and aimed at Timothy.  Timothy simply ran up to the fearful cop, knocked the gun out of his hand, knocked him over, then placed a single finger on the cop's forehead. The deputy was gone in 2 minutes, he screamed the whole time he faded.

Timothy saw what he just did, one again gripped his head while the cops' last thoughts were in his head. He looked at the men, he saw what he just did, and fled, with horror in his eyes. He ran into the tree-line near his neighborhood and before he knew it he was lost in the woods. He continued walking until he came upon a high treehouse. It was old, worn down, but sturdy enough to house him. He decided to make this his new home, for now. As he entered the house, he noticed a radio, bed, old food, some hunting gear, and a ladder in the corner of the room.

He went up the ladder, leading him into a watch tower with a view of his whole city. He knew he could stay here a while, maybe forever, unless it was discovered. He managed to stay there for 3 years, but some investigators found his place resulting in him "eliminating" them and feeling forced to flee to another city.

2 Years AfterwardsEdit

Frank lived in one of those large cities, the ones with the tall buildings, cars all over the streets, and people everywhere. He was on his usual walk home from work when he heard a man's radio nearby:

"Another person gone missing this week, that's the 50th one just in this month!"

This seemed unnatural, even in a city where people often go missing. Also Frank kept noticing ash everywhere, most people thought it was coming from the new factory, or it was just from how dirty the city was, but Frank knew something was up, something unnatural HAD to be causing the ashes and the disappearances. Then he saw it, a man just sitting by a fire in an alley, in jeans, a grey shirt, and a blue vest. Something was weird about him though.

As Frank looked closer, he saw what it was, the man had white-grey hair, but this man seemed to be only 22, maybe younger. Then the man looked up at Frank, and Frank saw something REALLY different, this man has completely black eyes, but blue pupils. Frank saw a look in his eyes, like than man was planing something that was including Frank. He then turned away from the man and continued on his walk, feeling a little unsettled after seeing that look.

Timothy didn't like how that man was looking at him like that, he felt the man was thinking:

"Look at that weird man, he's too different from NORMAL people!"

Timothy had heard that a lot in the past 5 years, and sometimes it drove him crazy enough to just touch them with a finger and be rid of that person, and their comments. Although it would get rid of that person, Timothy still received their last thoughts, most of them enough to drive him crazy, which they usually did.

Timothy knew he would most likely see that man again, and if he received that look from him again then he just simply place a hand on the man and be done with it, no more looks, no more man walking down that street everyday. In his opinion, this city was filled with a lot of judgmental people, always looking at Timothy like he was a freak, pointing at him, saying things about him when they thought no one was listening but he was. Every time someone did something like that more than once, he would get rid of them, or as he puts it "eliminate" them. He built up this habit whenever he would eliminate somebody, he would tell them something he heard from a preacher:

"From dust you arose and from dust you shall return." 

Timothy just liked saying it, and it fit what was about to happen to the people he touched, so he just decided to say it from that moment on. 

About a week later, Frank was walking down the same street he always walked on work days, but as he past that alley, the SAME man was there, only this time, the man was watching him. Frank thought this was strange, and he cocked his head in confusion because he didn't understand why that man was still there, after a full week too.  Timothy saw this look, he stood up from where he sat, and started to walk towards Frank. 

Frank saw the same look in Timothy's face like the last time, only this time it seemed hostile. Timothy pulled his hands out of their pockets, revealing the spikes to Frank. Frank looked in horror, he knew this man was meaning to kill him somehow with those "things,". He did what any sane man would do, run. Now Timothy had his secret ways of moving throughout the city without being noticed, he had routes, secret paths, and he also learned how to climb walls with his spikes. 

When Frank turned around the block, he gasped in fear when he saw the man, waiting for him. As Frank went to turn to run again, Timothy grabbed his arm, but Frank pulled away instantly. Frank looked at his hands, he was disappearing! Timothy grinned, but he realized that since the man pulled away so quickly, the effect was going to take longer. A LOT longer. Timothy assumed another touch would do the trick, so he continued to run after Frank. Frank ran towards home, he knew his brother was there, and maybe he could get help from him, Frank looked at his hands, his fingers were almost gone. 

He continued to run, but he soon found himself stumbling, now his feet were fading!  He ran on, but fell over multiple times, by the time he made it home, his feet were stumps and his arms were almost gone. Frank ran inside and up to the bathroom, his brother followed him, wondering what was going on. Frank stared in the mirror in horror, his eyes looked just like the man's, only in his eyes blood was flowing from them like tears. His brother ran into the bathroom, but before he could ask, Timothy placed his hands right on his brother's neck. 

This time though, Timothy pierced the skin of the neck, and slacked the artery of the person, finishing him off instantly. Frank screamed as he saw his brother's body, neck ripped open, turn to ash in 20 seconds, the blood still there. Timothy had enough of the games, he wanted to be done with this already! He approached Frank, who had no arms and had just fallen over due to his feet being gone. He placed his left hand on top of Frank's head, the same way they did in his church, and said to Frank:

"From dust you arose, and dust you will return."